A collaborative prompt project across the Dispatch fandom to celebrate the queer community. 10 pride month themed prompts to inspire your creativity in June!
1. All contributions must include dispatch characters in a queer relationship/setting.
2. You don't have to complete every prompt, and you can post anytime during June. If you do not want to include the prompt directly on your art that's fine! Just include it somewhere in the post so I know where to pop it in the master list.
3. All fics/art is welcome (Drabbles, headcannons, comics, one shots, sketches, anything!)
4. Any ships, OCs, reader fics, polyclus are welcome (as long as they are of age, consenting and queer)
5. Must tag 'Dispatching-Pride' to be included on the below masterlist
Key
đ - SFW
đ - NSFW
1. Exploring gender
2. Exploring Romantic attraction
3. Exploring Sexual attraction
4. Don't fit the binary
5. Saffic love
6. Ace umbrella
7. T4T
8. Platonic Queer Love
Our Lady of the underground @thehoneycrypt (T!Watergirl x T!Reader) đ
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our lady of the underground - watergirl (trans!wb) x trans!reader
word count: 5.5k
contains: reader is a trans man and watergirl is a trans woman, herman to heather pipeline, jewish!watergirl, childhood friends to lovers, mention of parental death, flashbacks ofc, both reader and watergirl have medically/socially/legally transitioned, bar fights, mention of injury, miscommunication, yearning hours, mention of transphobia, happy endings
summary: almost a decade after your childhood friend moved away, you find them again, both of you different in many ways but still the same at your core. will you resume where you left off, in that airport where you shared a brief kiss, or has the fire of romance burned out after so many years apart?
a/n: this has been in the works since february but seeing that @patheticwhitemenlover is hosting their dispatching pride event with a T4T category, it gave me the push i needed to finish this. ofc watergirlâs design is based on this amazing art by @death0rchids :) anywho, i hope you all enjoy!
High school was hell, but Herman Edelman made it worth it.
The two of you were thick as thieves, two losers against the world. Your mothers were best friends, even planning on having babies at the same time, which meant you two were best friends since the womb. From birth and onward, you and Herman were inseparable.
Then his parents died.
When your mother opened the door to the police officer, you and Herman were playing Mario Kart in the living room like you always do on Friday nights, laughing and trying to make the other lose. You only paused the game when you saw the tears flowing down your motherâs cheeks.
A drunk driver hit them, they were dead at the scene when the paramedics arrived.
You remembered cradling your best friend in the bath tub, his whole body slumped over in your arms and leaking water through every pore of skin. All the pain only amplified his powers, water flooding the tub with ease, as you tried to console him.
Yet, it was no use, the water wouldnât quell and his sobs haunt you to this day.
You remembered standing by Herman at his parentsâ gravesite the next day, as per Jewish tradition. Your arms were intertwined for stability while both you focused on the rabbi reciting the Kaddish. Dressed in modest black attire with your hair covered by a veil while he donned a soggy suit and yarmulke, both you and Herman could only stare at the matching shrouded caskets in the dug out holes.
When asked if he would want to shovel, Herman could only reply meekly that he was scared his powers would make his parentsâ burial sites too muddy.
So you grabbed the shovel and placed Hermanâs hands over yours, shoveling dirt over the graves together.
The day Shivaâthe seven day mourning period in the Jewish faithâconcluded, you stood before Herman at the airportâs boarding gate. Being only fifteen years old, Herman couldnât live on his own, so his grandmother took custody of him. Yet, she lived all the way out on the West Coast in Los Angeles, so far away from your little no-name town in the Northeast.
âI donât- I donât wa- wanna go,â sniffled Herman, tears already coating his steely blue eyes. He only had a few more minutes before he had to board the plane to LA.
âI donât want you to go either,â you murmured to your best friend, tears of your own glistening, âBut we can still talk. We can call and I could see about visiting in the summer.â
âProm- Promise?â
âPromise.â
Herman looked down at you, being over six feet because of his growth spurt. Gangly limbs, ance scattered about his sharp cheeks, glasses threatening to slide off his face at a momentâs notice.
He was the most beautiful man you had ever met.
âI love you, Herman.â
Hermanâs eyes widened at your words, opening his mouth to reply but the stewardess had cut him off with the announcement that it was time to board.
âI- I love you. Th- Thanksâ Thank you for everything.â
The two of you embraced as long as possible before he was forced to pull away, needing to board now or he would miss his flight. Without a second thought, you pecked Herman on the lips.
A full body blush broke out on his pale skin, as he touched the spot you kissed. You smiled at him and he smiled back before finally walking through the gate and vanishing.
Your first and last kiss together.
Days of no contact turned into weeks, then to months, and finally to years.
Herman Edelman vanished from your life, most likely to move on from the pain of the past and to start a new life in LA.
Meanwhile, you were stuck grieving for the boy you had loved since you were in middle school.
Yet, you couldnât let heartbreak define you. You made it through high school, graduated from college with honors, made friends, dated on occasion, and so on. Most importantly, though?
You became your true self, the man you were always meant to be.
You always knew that you werenât a girl, your parents affectionately referring to you as their little tomboy through your life. Yet, it clicked when you went to New York City Pride with a few friends.
It was easy to accept that you were bisexual, having dated all sorts of people while in college. You befriended many of your fellow queers, some of whom would become your lifelong friends. Said friends eventually invited you to NYC Pride, where you saw a group of the most beautiful men walking in the parade. The group had a sign up while they made their way through the chaos and excitement of the event.
Trans Men 4 Liberation
âI can be a man,â you whispered to yourself with the biggest smile, âI can be a man like them.â
Now, here you are, nursing a cocktail at one of LAâs most premier queer bars Our Lady of the Underground, a mouthful of a name, but perfect for a mouthful of a club. You had moved to LA after getting hired at one of SDNâsâSuperhero Dispatch Networkânewest branches as a biomechanial engineer, your work on a body-compatible power dampener sparking their interest in you.
What made you create this? you remember one of the SDN higher ups asking you about the device at your onboarding meeting. Surely, thereâs not really a market for it, right?
I made it because of someone very dear to me, whose powers would benefit from such a device. I donât care about its profitability, I care about its ability to make peopleâs lives better is what you told them.
You havenât started work yet, but youâre excited to. As of this year, you finished your transition: all your legal documents up to date with your chosen name and gender marker, five or so years on HRT, top surgery done, and so on. Sure, you had to deal with transphobes from time to time, but hopefully less so in LA than back home. Here in LA means a newâ
BAM!
A beer bottle heads towards your face, but you block it with your arm. It shatters upon impact, glass shards embedding into your skin and foamy beer staining your clothes.
âMotherfucker!â you curse, slamming your fists against the table and jumping to your feet to see whoâs responsible for your next hospital bill. However, you quickly abandon your revenge quest when you see that an all out brawl has broken out. Chairs and drinks fly about the room, as normies and supes alike square up against one another, chaos lit up under pulsating neon lights.
A rhino hybrid in fetish gear runs up to you, ready to impale you with his horn, but you manage to put an energy shield up in time, avoiding your fate of becoming a kebab. Youâve never considered yourself to be super until that very moment, as you could only muster small energy shields in exchange for immense focus, a power you inherited as a late bloomer at age sixteen.
Nonetheless, your energy shield is enough to send the enraged hybrid flying across the room, a sickly thud echoing when his back collides with the wall. You attempt to transverse the battlefield of drunken leather daddies and twinks, but the exit is blocked.
âFollow me!â
A voice calls out to you, as you feel a hand wrap around your wrist. You donât think twice and let the stranger drag you out of the club, throwing up the occasional energy shield when need be. Finally, night air kisses your skin upon your escape, the coolness a nice contrast to the bubbling heat of the clubâs interior.
âHoly shitâŚâ you let out a weak laugh and try to catch your breath, âYou seriously saved myââ
The strangerâs hand is still around your wrist, their fingers pianist-like and nails painted baby blue. Thereâs a small scar under the first knuckle of their thumb, one you surprisingly recognize.
âAre- you sure this is safe?â
You open up the little pocket knife your father gifted you for your eleventh birthday.
âOf course, it is!â
âCan you goâ Go first then!â
âOkay, I will!â
You crave a singular letterâan initialâunder your left thumb and hold the wound up.
âNow, you gotta lick it.â
âNoâ Wh- What?! Lick it?!â
âWe wonât be bonded otherwise.â
Thereâs a slight pause before a tongue laps your wound up.
âOkay, your turn!â
You hand the pocket knife over.
âCanât you⌠do- do it for me?â
âAw, donât be a crybaby!â
âIâm- Iâm not! I trust you moreâŚâ
You hold the pocket knife up.
âOkay, then I can do it for you.â
You crave the initial of your first name under the right thumb and quickly lick up the blood.
âThere! Now we just gotta say the promise.â
âThe promise?â
âThat no matter what happens, we will always care about the other.â
The two of you exchange smiles.
âDo you promise?â
âI- I promise!â
âI promise, too.â
You intertwine hands together.
âThen weâre bonded for life.â
Under the strangerâs right thumb, the scarâs your first initial while the scar under your left thumb is that of a H.
âHer-â you look up with hope in your eyes, only for your words to die on your tongue.
Before you stands the most beautiful woman youâve ever seen. Tall as an Amazonian with ginger hair draped over a spaghetti strap party dress, she looks back at you with concern. She possesses a hooked nose and rosy cheeks, a lively flush to her otherwise pale body. The droplets of water that roll off her skin glisten under the moonlight, the miscellaneous freckles that cover her body like constellations and her bluish grey eyes amplified.
âAre- Are you okay?â
The same stutter, the same scar, the same person you loved since middle school.
âWhat do you go by now?â you ask.
Sheâs taken aback, bewildered by your question. You get back on your feet and show her your scarred thumb, âI still hope it starts with H, or else weâre gonna need a redo. Donât worry, though. My first initial is still theââ
The ethereal woman before you breaks out into that familiar smile of hers and embraces you tight, squishing your face against her perky breasts. She holds you for what seems like hours, as you slowly wrap your arms around her sides and hug her back.
âItâs- Itâs you,â her voice cracks, âItâs you.â
âItâs me,â you whisper back, âA little different now, but still me.â
She pulls back and cups your face, examining your features. All you can do is smile fondly at her, your chest full of warmth and joy.
âYouâre bleeding,â she then comments with a frown, to which you merely laugh and reply, âShoulda seen the other guy.â
âI can- I can patch you up,â she reassures you, pulling a small first aid kit out of her purse and procuring some tweezers.
âAt least, tell me your name before you do that,â you request.
She smiles wearily, âYouâre⌠still th- the same as ever, huh?â and you nod, earning a small chuckle from the ginger.
âHeath- Heather. Heather Edelman.â
You sit on the curb outside of the club while Heather carefully plucks the glass shards from your arm. The bar fight quells down, but the clubâs owners decide to close early for the night, as SDN heroes come by to escort folks to the paddy wagon on disorderly conduct charges.
âWhy didnât you ever call me?â you suddenly ask Heather when she plucks the remaining glass shards from your skin.
âI tried,â she answers before licking her hand and slapping it over one of your cuts. You shiver a bit from the sudden coolness of her spit, only to be amazed when it leaves your skin perfectly healed.
âAnd now you got healing spit?â you comment with a tiny laugh, âCool.â
Heather returns your laugh, but quickly elaborates to you, âGrandma⌠Grandma got sick soon after I moved in. I had to take care of her, the cats, school- but I did try⌠my phone- my phone got waterlogged and I couldnât- I couldnât afford a new one and I didnât have your number memorizedââ
You abruptly pull her into a hug and bury your face in the crook of her neck.
âI missed you every single day for the past nine years.â
Heather slumps forward in your embrace, sobs hiccupping from her diaphragm.
âI saved up- I saved up so much money to get- to get a flight to visit you- in the summer like we promised⌠but by the time I could afford it, I had- I had started my transitionâŚâ her voice trails off, âYour dad th- threatened to shoot- shoot me if I didnât leave right then and there.â
You remember that day, it had only been a week or so since your college graduation when you witnessed a confrontation between your dad and a stranger outside your house. Of course, you couldnât hear what words were being exchanged, but whatever your dad said was enough to scare them off.
âFucking hell,â you curse under your breath, anger bubbling up in your stomach. How could your fatherâthe man who bandaged your boo boos, who cried with joy when you won engineering competitions and graduated from school, who comforted you after breakups and failuresâdo such a thing to the child of his late best friends?
âIâm sorry,â is all you can say to Heather, âIâm so sorry.â
âItâs okay,â she whispers with a weak smile, âItâs in- Itâs in the past,â the ginger then gestures at you with a small frown, âDoes he⌠know? Ab- About you.â
âYes,â you confess.
âDid he⌠accept you?â
âYes.â
Relief floods Heatherâs face, âTh- Thank God,â she smiles softly at you, âThatâsâ What a relief.â
âYeah,â you hum, âTook him some time, though. Mom was accepting right off the bat, but Dad was definitely⌠shocked? Angry? No clue, but he went to a support group for parents and family members of trans kids, that helped him understand.â
âIâm- Iâm glad,â murmurs Heather.
âHow about your grandma?â you ask.
Heather grins at you, âI was worried- scared that she wouldnât accept- accept me because of her age⌠but she- she was part ofâ She was there for the Stonewall Riot! Friends with drag- drag queens, other trans folks⌠she understood immediately.â
âIâm glad,â you rest a hand on her cheek, a timid smile gracing your lips, âIâm really glad, Heather.â
Eventually, Heather gets you all patched up, any injuries you sustained fading into light scars. The two of you get back on your feet and look around the outside of the bar, most of the patrons either shipped off to some holding cells or left the property.
In a bold move, you try to offer getting a drink together to Heather, âDo you wanna get a properââ
âThere you are, Wet Fart Girl!â an accented voice cuts you off, as a long-haired man in a fishnet crop top and a woman with colorful Afro puffs approach the both of you, âBeen looking everywhere for you!â
âSorry!â laughs Heather sheepishly, âI- I was helping an oldâ my friend.â
Your chest tightens when she refers to you as her friend, grateful that she still considers you one but your heart craves more⌠much more.
âOh, heâs cute,â comments the other woman. You see Heather open her mouth, but quickly closes it; you swear that her cheeks are a darker pink.
âEh. Heâs fine,â retorts the man with the ponytail. You playfully scoff and decide to introduce yourself to the two of them, assuming that theyâre friends of Heather. The woman with the Afro puff soon gawks at you and questions, âWait, are you that new guy Blazer hired?â
âBlazer?â you quirk an eyebrow at her.
âOur- Our boss,â elaborates Heather.
âOverheard her yapping with Royd about some new guy from the East Coast joining the roster or something,â the other woman shrugs, âSo you the guy or nah?â
âI mean, I did get a job at one of the California SDN branch,â you think back to your job acceptance letters, âThe⌠Torrance Branch? I think.â
âThatâs- Thatâs our branch!â exclaims Heather, her eyes sparkling with excitement, âWe- We get to be coworkers!â
You break out in a big smile, âOh cool! You guys engineers, too?â
The man beside Heather snorts, âOh, hell no. Weâre bona fide heroes.â
Your smile widens and turn to Heather, taking her hands in yours. She always dreamed of becoming a hero since elementary school when the two of you witnessed the hero Waterspout putting out a five alarm fire in your neighborhood with ease.
âYou did it,â you squeeze her hands, not minding the moisture, âIâm so proud of you, Heather.â
Her cheeks redden, unable to get the words out for a response so she opts to smile and nod. Suddenly, your phone rings and you let go Heatherâs hands to check it.
âShit, I gotta go,â you sigh, âI get at least a few hours of sleep before my first day tomorrow,â you look up at Heather and flash her one more smile, âSee you tomorrow?â
âSee- See you tomorrow!â she exclaims.
You order yourself an Uber and bid the three of them goodbye, heading back to your new apartment. Your chest fills with joy and excitement, thanking the universe for such a wonderful reunion with your childhood best friend.
Outside the club, Chad and Alice watch Heatherâs lovestruck expression linger after you take your leave, the two of them snickering at their coworker and friendâs reaction.
âOh, sheâs so whipped.â
You park outside SDN Torrance, coffee in one hand and some generic breakfast sandwich in the other. Your messenger bag swings with each step you take, as you approach the entrance to your new workplace.
âHi there,â you greet the lobby receptionist after finishing your breakfast, âDo you know where I can find Blonde Blazer?â
âRight here!â
You whip your head around and see a tall, muscular blonde in a yellow and blue superhero suit. Politely, you give her a nod and introduce yourself to your new boss.
âSo good to have you on staff,â your new boss comments while the two of you walk to her office, âRoyd has been looking for a lab partner for months.â
âRoyd? Not Roy?â you ask.
âHe can explain it,â chuckles Blonde Blazer, âBut letâs head inside my office. I have your work shirts there.â
You nod and enter a sleek office with your boss. Blonde Blazer heads to her desk and holds out a box of work shirts, a mix of dress shirts and polos.
âYou can go change in the locker rooms downstairs. Besides the uniform shirt, we have a business casual dress code for non-hero personnel,â explains your boss, as she slips the box into your bag, âThe lab is on the same level, too. Royd should be inside. Have a good first day!â
âThanks, Boss,â you give her a nod and exit her office without another word, excited to get the work day started.
You turn the corner to get to the elevators, but unfortunately collide with someone in the process. Losing your balance, you brace yourself to hit the floor, but a wet hand grabs you by the wrist and holds you tight, "Got youâ I got you!"
"Heather?" you peer up at the tall woman, taking in the sight of her hero attire. She dons a similar color scheme to Blonde Blazer, a bright yellow and blue wetsuit with knee and elbow pads. Her hair is done in two braids and a pair of swim goggles rest on her forehead.
"Watergirl," she answers, "Weâ Heroes aren't really allowed to goâ to use th- their civilian names whenâ while on the clock."
"Gotcha," you nod, "It's fitting."
"Yeah?" her lips curl up into a giddy smile.
"Very," you hum before readjusting your hold on your bag, "I gotta get going, but can I get your number? If you have a new phone."
"I do!" she exclaims with pride, "Roydâ He made me a waterproof one!"
You two then exchange phone numbers and part ways, but now with a pep in your step. After ten or so minutes, you get into your work shirt and find the lab, the automatic doors opening with a hiss. At one of the work station, the biggest man youâve ever seen is welding something, sparks flying while his tools buzz.
"Uhm, are you Royd?" you ask the man in the lab.
He stops what he's doing and turns to face you, lifting up his welding mask to reveal quite the handsome face. The man sets his tools down and stands up, his height just as huge as the rest of him, "That me, brotha! You da new guy?"
You confirm with a nod, only to be surprised with a powerful pat on the back from Royd. For a second, you swear his strength forces that one stubborn knot out of your muscles from prolonged slouching at your desk.
"Welcome to the lab!" your new work buddy moves onto giving you the tour of the lab. You marvel at the miscellaneous blueprints that lay about, as well as the various works in progress. The smell of metal and sweat comforts you.
I'm gonna like it here.
You and Royd hit it off almost instantly. His positive attitude is infectious, as it rubs off on you while the two of you jam to a band you have a shared interest in. While Royd works on his latest assignment, he requests you to review some confiscated blueprints and see if you can modify any for SDN.
âSaw your prototype,â the Samoan comments aloud, âThe power dampener. Great invention. Cortexâs âprints might be of use to you.â
âCortex?â you ask.
âBig brain villain,â hums Royd, âWanted to empower non-supes and enslave them for world domination.â
âWeird,â you purse your lips together, âBut maybe his stuff can help me.â
You proceed to unwrap all the blueprints in the box labeled Cortex and begin dissecting the various inventions. Nothing seems to peek your interest untilâ
âHoly shit,â you let out a laugh of disbelief, holding the prized blueprint. Itâs of a mind control collar, but the premise is functionally the same as your power dampener prototype, âYo, Royd! Do we have any mircoleads?â
âMiddle drawer labeled the medical equipment,â answers your lab partner.
You rush to the designated drawer and gather the rest of the necessary materials before heading to your work station. It takes two or so hours to make, but you fashion a metal bracelet with a variety of buttons around it. You snap the bracelet around your wrist, wincing a bit when the needles pierce your skin.
âI think I did,â you voice to Royd.
âDid what?â he asks.
âMy power dampener,â you hold up the bracelet.
Royd grins, âLetâs test it!â
The two of you head to the testing zone in the lab and Royd puts on his glasses, pen and notebook in hand to document the results.
âTest One,â you set the power dampener to a 25% decrease. You take a deep breath and summon an energy shield. Itâs stable, but not noticeable weaker. Royd takes note of that and you set the bracelet to 50% before creating another energy shield. This time, you see it flicker, still stable but visibly weaker.
âOkay, itâs working,â you can barely contain your excitement at the success.
âWhat about a 75% decrease?â voices Royd.
âOh, yeah,â you make the shield vanish and change the setting, âLetâs see.â
You summon one last energy shield, this one barely visible. Before you can celebrate your success, the bracelet begins to heat up and spark before combusting around your wrist, filling the room with smoke.
With his super strength, Royd pries the power dampener off you and contain the fire, as you clutch your injured wrist.
âI think I need to go to the hospital.â
You have second degree burns around your wrist, your skin hot and blistering. Thankfully, one of the nurses has healing powers, shining your burned skin in golden light until youâre left good as new.
âThank you,â you tell the nurse, grateful that you donât have to deal with such a burdensome injury.
The nurse gives you a thumbs up and allows you to return to your work duties. You exit the infirmary, only to run into Heather again, âHeather-â
The words die in your mouth when you see the tearful look on your best friendâs face. With a frown, you act on instinct, reaching and cupping her face in your hands, wiping away her tears, âWhatâs wrong? Are you hurt?â
âN- No,â she shakes her head, âI- I was goingâ I went to the lab to ask if you wantedâ if you would have lunch with me, but- but Royd said you- you got hurt,â more tears roll down her cheeks.
âOh, Heather, Iâm okay. I promise,â you reassure her, reaching up and wiping away some of her tears.
âYou promise?â she looks at you with pitiful eyes.
âI swear on Mr. Turtleâs grace,â you inform her, invoking your only childhood petâs deceased nature to highlight the seriousness of your promise.
âOkay,â she pulls back to take care of her remaining tears, âWh- What happened, th- though?â
âIâll explain at lunch.â
The two of you soon head up on the roof of the branch building, partaking in food from the nearby Tex-Mex food truck.
âI got hired because of my engineering thesis project,â you open the story to Watergirl between bites of your burrito bowl, âItâs a power dampener, an alternative to the power nullifying collars used in prisons.â
âA power dampener?â the ginger gawks at you.
âYup,â you hum.
âWhy?â
âWhy? Why what?â
âWhy make th- that?â
You pause, as Heather adverts her gaze and stares down at her heavily wrapped burrito.
âBecause of you.â
Her eyes widen, âBecause of me?â
âYeah,â you set your meal aside and explain, âI know how difficult controlling your powers was for you growing up and the only things available for that help are nullifiers, which are either used in correctional facilities or are priced ridiculously high.â
You peer over at Heather, whoâs now staring you with curiosity, âBut I know that the nullifiers can make supes pretty sick and that a lot of supes want to be able to adjust their powersâ intensity whenever they want or need to⌠so I made a power dampener.â
âTh- Thatâs amazing!â exclaims Heather, her eyes twinkling with awe and excitement.
You chuckle at her and add on, âItâs actually how I got this job. What I made just a prototype, though,â you pause before mentioning to your friend, âI was able to make a newer version by reworking some old blueprints from Cortex, but itâs why I ended up in the medical wing.â
âWh- What exactly happened?â
âIt worked at a 25% and 50% decrease, but overheated when I turned it up to a 75% decrease. Gave me second degree burns.â
Heather goes silent, as do you. Still holding your burrito bowl, you go to take a bite, but your friend speaks up:
âYou couldâve gotten really hurt.â
Her voice is strained, as if sheâs ready to cry at any second. You frown and inform her, âI had to test it on myselfââ
âNo!â the ginger cuts you off, much to your surprise. A bit of steam wafts off her body, something you havenât seen since she witnessed middle school bully Jimmy Wilson pushing you down the stairs.
âHeather, itâs okayââ you try to reassure her, but to no avail.
âNo, itâs not!â Heather balls up her fists, more steam rising from her body, âWh- What if you got more hurt? Or- Or die? Like Mechaman.â
You want to question what Heather means by that, but you opt to set your meal aside and hold out your hands to her. She stares at them for a minute before relaxing her hands and taking yours.
âIâm sorry for scaring you, I didnât realizeâŚâ you trail off, âIâm sorry.â
âI just- I just got you back. I donât want you to get- to lose you again.,â she confesses.
âHeatherâŚâ you squeeze her hands, âHeather, I-â
Your phone suddenly rings, your alarm going off to signal that your lunch break is over. Wordlessly, you let go of Heatherâs hands and turn off the alarm before grabbing your burrito bowl and standing up.
âIâll see you later,â you murmur to her.
âSee you⌠Yeah,â she replies.
Without another word, the two of you part ways and return to your jobs.
That dayâs See you later turns into a week with no interaction between you and Heather.
At first, you chalk it up to her being busy with hero work and you with your lab duties. Yet, whenever you got a chance to see her, Heather would find some way to evade you. Her avoidance scratches at the old but present wound of your almost decade long absence from each otherâs lives.
So with a little help from Royd, you manage to corner Heather in the lab during the lunch break.
The ginger idles before you, bewildered. She then asks, âRoydâ He said he had something for- for me? Do- Do you know whereâ Is he here?â to which you reply, âNo, I asked him to get you down here for me.â
Heather frowns, slouching even more while she stands in place. You cross your arms and state, âWe need to talk.â
The heroine doesnât respond, but the increase in her water output betrays what sheâs feeling.
âWhy are you avoiding me?â you question Heather, âYou just told meââ your breath hitches, âYou told me you didnât want to lose me again.â
âIâm sorry,â is all she says.
âThen why are you avoiding me?â you reiterate.
Heather begins to pull at her braids, âI- I got wrapped up with hero work, Iâm sorry.â
âHeather,â you take a step closer and guide her hands off her braids, âPlease, please tell me the truth.â
âI- I love you.â
Those three words shoot straight through your heart like Cupidâs arrow.
âWhat?â
âI- I- I love you,â Heatherâs bottom lip quivers, âTh- Thatâs why Iâve beenâ I was scared, I am scaredâ I donât wanna lose- I donât wanna ruin everything,â she stammers, more and more droplets rolling off her body and onto the floor.
Youâre silent while she continues to ramble, âSeeing you at the clubâ Seeing who youâve become but at the same time, you still being youâ Then having you work hereâ God, everything, I canâtââ
âHeather,â you grasp her hands.
âYeah?â she whispers, her voice tight with emotion.
âI love you, too.â
Heather looks at you as if you grew a second head, but that expression morphs into one akin to winning the lottery, as she breaks out into a huge grin, âYou do- You really do?â
âYes,â you nod and squeeze her hands, âIâve loved you since middle school, Heather Edelman.â
Like an excited puppy, Heather captures your lips in a sweetâalbeit clumsyâkiss, her lips soft and tasting of blue raspberry chapstick. You move your hands to her face and cup her cheeks, holding her gently.
You remember the kiss you shared at the airport, how brief and fleeting it had been. You had spent countless nights during your youth wondering if youâd ever feel her lips against yours again, if it would be different than that single peck.
And now you have.
And itâs better than anything you ever imagine.
You lose track of how long youâve been kissing Heather, only pulling away once you need air. A thin string of saliva connects your lips to hers, an anchor of your love for one another.
âIâve loved you since- since elementary school,â the heroine sheepishly admits.
âReally?â you chuckle, surprised.
âReally!â she exclaims, âI always⌠I always had- I hoped that you- that I would find you again.â
You kiss Heather once more on the lips, longer than a peck but shorter than the earlier kiss. Pulling back, you murmur to her, âWell, you found me.â
Heather smiles widely at your words, âI found you,â she repeats back, pressing her forehead against yours, âI found you.â
A comfortable silence falls upon the two of you, as you place your hands on Heatherâs waist and hold her still. You share a tender moment of unspoken connection, grounding both of you to this new reality.